


Maps

by Waywardist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adorable, Adorable Castiel, Adorkable, Cute, Cute Castiel, Cute Dean, Cutesy, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Romanticism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywardist/pseuds/Waywardist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel wants to map out every single inch of Dean's perfect skin. The angel is lovestruck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maps

There wasn’t a single thing that Castiel didn’t love about Dean. He adored him, honestly. And to think, years ago, he had found the hunter to be so arrogant, and so narcissistic, and so promiscuous. But now, Castiel saw everything differently. He saw confidence, not arrogance. He saw the faults and cracks in his armor of narcissism. And honestly, Castiel was beginning to think that promiscuity wasn’t a bad thing after all—that it was just another guard put in his mind by his brothers and by his father. Everything the angel did now was against his siblings and father, like the hunting, and the wanting to become a hunter, and getting too close to the humans here, and this—especially this.  
Castiel was on top of Dean—this had become a new development, something that Cas enjoyed, and something he liked to think Dean enjoyed, too—and was busying himself with running gentle hands across the hunter’s bare flesh. Castiel had woken up earlier than Dean, but he had been feeling detached and melancholy and craved more sleep—though after a few minutes of tossing and turning, he deduced that sleep was nowhere near becoming his anytime soon. So he’d gotten up, hoping to make himself some breakfast—but was quickly pulled back down by the hand.   
Castiel wasn’t sure how it happened. First, he’d just been laying down in bed, with his legs tangled around Dean’s, and they had murmured their good-mornings and shared gentle kisses, Dean landing his lips against Cas’, Cas peppering Dean’s cheeks and nose and forehead with soft, loving pecks. Somehow, Cas had rolled on top of the hunter, sitting back on Dean’s legs and running his hands along Dean’s chest as though he were blind, feeling for knowledge. Fingers splayed, Castiel continued to feel chastely, moving as though he were fascinated by it all, determined to map out the no-longer-uncharted territory. He remembered never expecting Dean to be this muscled—constantly hidden beneath layers of shirts and jackets, Castiel had always assumed he was as cut as any normal man going through strenuous workouts—but he had expected hard, harsh muscles, all roughness and solidness. But his muscles were sinewy and lean, chording over his stomach and chest and shoulders, and Castiel was mesmerized by the lot of it.   
Dean had gotten used to seeing this look in Castiel’s eyes, this look like he couldn’t get enough and that he just wanted more, and he had grown to understand that when Cas got like this, it was best to leave him. So Dean sat back against the bed, watching the angel with tentative, amused jade eyes. Castiel’s hands continued to move quickly, barely gracing the hunter’s skin. His hands moved hurriedly but lovingly still, as though memorizing the planes of Dean’s body, mapping it all out until it was committed to memory. As Castiel ran a single, tentative fingertip along the center of Dean’s chest, Dean sat up with an amused expression alight in his green eyes. He moved to kiss the angel, but Castiel pulled back slightly with a soft smile ghosting across his lips. Not yet.  
Dean seemed to understand this, though he didn’t lie back down. His arms came around Castiel’s waist, pulling the angel closer, wanting the proximity between them to lessen considerably. This, Dean thought, this was nice. Pleasant, sweet, surprising to enjoy it this much. Castiel dragged his fingertips along Dean’s neck slowly, then up his firm jaw, then along his cheekbones. Wherever Castiel’s fingertips went, his lips soon followed, gentle and soft and loving. Castiel wanted to take everything in and not let a single aspect go to waste. He loved every little bit of every little thing; the flickers of blue and gold in Dean’s emerald eyes; the gentle, smart curve of his cupid’s bow lips; the freckles palely dotting the bridge of his nose and the soft skin of his cheeks. Dean smiled, crinkles in Castiel’s memory map, but the crinkles of memories and fondness. I love you. Neither of them said it, though they both felt it, and they both sensed it in each other. Castiel’s grin mirrored Dean’s.

**Author's Note:**

> please, feel free to leave me prompts/the like :)


End file.
